


Scars

by Tonks32



Series: Adventures of Lizabeth Trevelyan [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/M, Happy, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture, Scars, Some Fluff, Stargazing, painful memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23565487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tonks32/pseuds/Tonks32
Summary: Scars. They both have them, but they never ask each other the stories behind it. Until now. A darker origin story for F! inquisitor. please read A/N. Part of my Adventure of Lizabeth Trevelyan Series.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Series: Adventures of Lizabeth Trevelyan [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/267349
Kudos: 13





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> A darker retelling of my female rogue Inquisitor. Not as dark as my other story, but still a trigger warning for past violence, past sexual abuse, and everything that goes with exploring both Cullen and Lizabeth's pasts.

Lizabeth strolled along the battlement with her eyes scanning the horizon. It was well past dark and it was hard to make anything out but the snow-covered mountains and trees. The Inquisitor kept looking anyway. After the attack on Heaven, there was no way she was going to let anything like that happen again. That’s why there were scouts positioned in intervals, covering a wide range of the land outside of Skyhold. Some Scouts were so far at there that to reach them would take nearly a week. It might be a bit overkill, but no one argued against it. They all didn’t want to be caught off guard a second time. Once she was sure that all was well, for the moment anyway, Lizabeth leaned against the wall and turned her gaze upward. The night sky was crystal clear giving her an amazing few of the stars. When she was a child she used to lie out on the grass trying to recall constellations she learned in her studies and make up her own when her memory failed her. A good escape when the politics in her family became too much. Politics was her family past time though Lizabeth didn’t care for it much. The thought made her laugh. As Inquisitor, it was a large part of her life.

“Something funny, my lady?”

The sound of Cullen’s voice made Lizabeth go all warm and fuzzy. Did she just use those words? Maker, she had gone all soft, hadn’t she? She didn’t turn around, “just thinking about irony.”

Cullen leaned his back against the wall to study her face, “Can’t sleep?”

“I’m having trouble shutting off my mind.” With her eyes sparkling with mischief, she shifted her gaze to the Commander. “What are you doing up here at this time of night?”

“You can say I’m having trouble getting something off my mind.” Cullen smiled at their private joke.

Her body shifted closer to his, seeking his warmth, “we really do need to stop meeting like this Cullen.” When circumstance permitted it, Lizabeth would leave her bed for his. Most of the time it was well past the time anyone but the guards should be awake.

“If someone saw you sneaking into my quarters you’re reputation…”

She arched one of her scarred eyebrows, “I believe it’s a little too late to worry about my reputation, Commander. We are the worst kept secret in Skyhold if not the whole of Thedas.”

A blush started working across his face, “How and who?”

“Well.” She mimicked his position and crossed her arms over her chest, “Dorian was the one who asked me about the sturdiness of your desk.”

“Of course he did.” Cullen was naïve to think that he could keep this from the witty mage. “How’d he find out?”

“You don’t know?” Lizabeth asked trying not to laugh.

“Am I supposed to?”

“I guess we were both caught up in the moment to notice that one of the guards had lingered after you ordered them out in hopes to talk to you. He bolted out the door when you pushed me onto your desk.”

“Maker’s breath.” Embarrassed, Cullen rubbed his stubbly cheek trying to recall that night. The moment he saw her in the back of the room he got tunnel vision. The world just faded away and all he could see was her. Things had happened so fast that he didn’t think to check the room to make sure everyone had left. “I’m surprised none of the men have said anything.”

“According to Dorian, this nameless guard had been so shell shocked about it he went straight to the tavern. Dorian noticed and of course it being Dorian he did whatever it could to get the guard to talk. Dorian even went as far as to say that the guard was more embarrassed at how turned on her got.”

Cullen’s face burned. “Who was this guard?”

“Dorian refused to tell me, but he did make the guard swear to an oath of silence on the matter for your reputation of course.”

“My reputation?” His voice squeaked a little at the question. Cullen cursed, cleared his throat, and struggled to salvage what was left of his manliness. “I’m sure he didn’t say that.”

Lizabeth smiled at how flustered the Commander was. “Its Dorian, Cullen.”

Of course, it had to be the mage that would find out. Oh, Maker what of Iron Bull found out? The thought nearly made Cullen pale. Or worse Varric? No doubt the dwarf would use it for one of his books. “Kill me know, Lizabeth.”

Lizabeth patted his shoulder. “Not going to happen, my love. If I have to endure Dorian’s request for details about your endowment, then you do too.”

Cullen wasn’t sure how to take that question. Dorian was never one to hold back on anything. The mage had more with and humor then the whole Inquisition put together. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?

“Just a bit,” Lizabeth admitted. “Don’t worry I’ll protect you from Dorian.”

“Him I can deal with, but I don’t think I can handle the others.”

“Oh, I’ve threatened them with the wrath of the mighty rift hand to not talk about it.”

“Thank the Maker for that.”

“Though Liliana has kindly informed that most of Skyhold already knows. She said something about your habit of staring.”

Cullen cringed a little. The Spymaster had caught him on more than one occasion doing just that in the war room. He swore he had been a little bit more conscious about it when out and about around the keep. “So no need for any more late night rendezvous?”

“I don’t know.” Lizabeth slid her hand up his chest, enjoying the way his heart quickened under her touch. “Sneaking across the battlements in the dead of night has a forbidden flare to it. Of course, there is your reputation we have to worry about. Don’t think the Chantry would like it too much that the Herald of Andraste has seduced one of its Templars.”

“Let them think what they want.” He was happy now that they didn’t have to act normal when around each other during their normal duties. He wanted all of Thedas to know that Lizabeth Trevelyan was his and he was hers. “They have bigger things to worry about than who the Inquisitor is sleeping with.”

Smiling, she slipped her arm through his and tugged him along, “let’s walk. It’s a beautiful night.”

“It is.”

“You’re not even looking up at it.”

Cullen’s scarred lip curved into a smile, “I’m with you so it’s a beautiful night regardless of how the sky looks.”

Beaming, she rested her head on his shoulder while they walked, “I always loved looking at the stars. My mother always said that’s where my head was at most of the time.”

“You don’t talk about your parents very often.” Cullen softly pointed out adding a silent why to the end of his statement. The look that crossed her face made him sorry he even said anything. “Liz-…”

“My parents and I didn’t exactly get along.” That was an understatement. They had such high hoped for her and her future to carrying on Trevelyan's way of life in with the Chantry as a cleric. The day she told them she wanted to become a Templar was the day they stopped putting so much effort into her. Lizabeth was grateful for that. Her siblings had enough success in their lives to make up for any of her misgivings. Even ones that she had no control over that left her with her scarred face. “The only person I really got along with his my older brother. If it wasn’t for Graydon sticking up for me I’m sure my family would have disowned me.”

Hearing such a thing made anger surge inside him. “How could they act in such a manner? You’re their daughter?”

“Who didn’t ’really conform to the Trevelyan legacy. I didn’t want to give my life to the Chantry just because as the youngest it was expected of me. Mother had tried to groom me to be a cleric from a young age. Her heart nearly stopped when she found out that my Gray was teaching me how to fight at the age of five. Father gave him a beating of a lifetime for it saying how improper it was of him to encourage such behavior. Trevelyan women don’t have a long history of warriors. Most were Clerics and Ladies of the household.” Lizabeth just shrugged it off. Her strained relationship with her parents was something she came to terms with a long time ago. “Did your family support your discussion to become a templar?”

Cullen let her change the subject, “they struggled at first, but in the end, gave me their blessing since I was going to join with or without it.” He could see that this conversation was weighing on her in a way he didn’t like. Sometimes he forgot that not everyone came from such a home as his. “Come let’s get somewhere a bit warm.”

“No.” Lizabeth had another plan. Smiling, she took the commander’s hand and pulled him along the battlement. Finding a blanket took a little bit more effort than she liked. After stealing one from some random quarters, they found the most secluded part of the battlement they could find.

Cullen watched his inquisitor laid the blanket out upon the cool concrete. “Ummm, Liz.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his tell when he was flustered or embarrassed by his thoughts.

The corners of her mouth lifted into a smile that put the twinkling stars above to shame. “Don’t worry, Commander. I don’t intend to completely ruin your reputation by having my way with you on the battlement.” She found great enjoyment at the flush that crossed his face. “Yet.”

A lump formed in his throat making it impossible for him to make anything but a few unintelligence able noise. This woman was going to be the death of him.

“We’re going to stargaze,” She explained to put him out of his misery. “I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

The Templar returned her smile with one of his own and laid down next to her on the blanket. “I don’t know if I can promise the same thing.”

Two guards passed by giving the pair a sideways look but were wise enough to keep walking and say nothing. Lizabeth tucked one hand under her head while she traced out a constellation with the other. Wither or not he could see it, Cullen let her ramble on about the myth this particular cluster of stars was born from. Moments like this where there was no talk of battles were few and far between. So Lizabeth soaked them up whenever they occurred. Talking about the stars helped ease the strain talking about her family had caused. It also made her ache to see her brother again. They hadn’t had much contact after the explosion at the conclave. Of course, she had sent him an ‘I’m alive. Don’t worry’ message to her home along with a request that Josephine had inquired about to pass along to their parents. They had sent a response to the ambassador since it was an arrangement that benefits them. She was still waiting on them to send word directly to her.

“Stop thinking about them.” Cullen softly demanded, “They aren’t worth your time.”

She turned to meet the commander’s concerned gaze, “how do you know I am?”

He rubbed the crease between her brows with his thumb, “I can hear it in your voice.” Out of habit, Cullen traced the raised skin that ran from her hairline and through her left eyebrow that continued under her eye. It was the smaller and faintest of the scars that branded her face. There was a deep jagged lined of discolored skin that ran from the underside of her right jaw that curved with the natural contorts of the blade that must have been pressed against her face. There as another raised scar on her other cheek that was hidden most of the time with the long length of bangs of her growing hair. Cullen noted that they shared a scar almost the exact same size over their lip just mirrored of each other. Being a seasoned soldier and having seen his fair share of battle scars, he knew by the rate of healing that those scars had happened relatively close together. The smaller nicks in her skin resulted from her battle at Haven.

Lizabeth fought the urge to look away to remove her marred face from his view. It was a habit after all. People would always look at her with pity or disgust for walking away with her face in such a condition. The scars were the main reason her mother pushed her to join the chantry. The headwear would cover at least some of the face. Maker knew that her mother had given up hope for Lizabeth to ever find a man since no in existence could love her. She had been wrong. There wasn’t anything in Cullen’s golden eyes except admiration and love? Moved, the Inquisitor ran her fingertips over the thin white scar on his upper lip. “Will you tell me how you got this?” She had heard stories being passed around by inquisition soldier’s numerous times, just never from the man himself. “The real story?”

Cullen closed his eyes and leaned into her feather-light touch. So many people asked about it, soldiers mostly, each time the answered varied. Most of the time the answer was ‘got it in battle’ was enough to satisfy most curious minds. A man under his command from time to time would press for more details in hope to hear a grand battle story from the blight. It seemed that’s where most people believed he had acquired it. Sadly, there was no grand story of battling a horde of darkspwan. The truth was much darker. Everyone assumed since he had met the Hero of Ferelden that had a bigger role in the blight then he did. It was far easier to let them believe that then tell them that he was far too broken of a man to help in anyway after having been shattered both mentally and physically. Those were the scars that they didn’t know about so it left them wondering about the one they could see. He had acquired the particular scar during the uprising in Kirkwall trying to survive the streets that ran red with rivers of blood, where people burned alive, and mage’s and Templar’s alike lashed out amongst the chaos. That night of carnage haunted him in the fade. With the explosion of the chantry, Anders started a chain reaction that destroyed two orders and a city itself.

Lizabeth saw the demons swirling in his honey-colored eyes. Demons her lover talked very little about. She shifted on her side and propped her head upon her hand. “It happened in Kirkwall?”

Cullen nodded. “That night the order splintered apart so we weren’t just fighting apostates, but our own members. There was so much killing.” He couldn’t help but remember all too vividly of citizens screaming in agony as they burned, crying out as they were cut down by steel and magic. The renegade Templars and apostates didn’t seem to care who got caught in the middle of their rampage. “I was helping Hawke’s sister Bethany and Merrill. These two mages that weren’t more than a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet were holding their own while trying to protect a small group of citizens caught up in the middle of the battle. Apostates were approaching from one side, the Templars on the other. The three of us found a small group of street kids in the lower levels of the city. They were so frightened. I remember feeling so drained. The fighting had been going on for hours and I had no lyrium left. We had these six frightened children, two of them being injured to badly to walk.”

The inquisitor simply stroked his hair and let him continue.

They were being surrounded by both sides. Cullen had sent Bethany and Merrill with the kids that could walk to get Hawke’s companions to safety as much as the kids. Everyone knew the champion’s influence and a companion had been the spark that finally ignited the flame needed to start the rebellion. Lizabeth could picture it as if she was there by the way he spoke in great detail. It was far too easy to imagine him there in some ally with two little children at his feet with a sword in hand. She could see Cullen’s armor tarnished with blood from the people he had been forced to cut down. She knew without him telling her that he was injured having seen the scars herself in their private moments.

“My arm ached. I was so sure that I wouldn’t be able to lift my sword let alone two children, but I couldn’t leave them.” Cullen remembered the smell of burning flesh coming from the fires raging around them. He knew that if left, he would have sealed those two children’s fate. “I put them on my back and took the other in my arms and started towards the docks. That’s where people were ferrying citizens out. I was nearly there when two Templars found me. I knew them both, one since childhood. Thomas, we umm, we trained together. I thought… I never imagined that they would turn from the order. That they would follow Meredith.”

The pain in his voice sliced at her heart. “Cullen, I’m so sorry.”

“So am I.” He caught her callused hand in his so she could study it with great intent. He had spent more time then he wanted to admit starring at her hands while they worked at the map in the war room. Long calloused fingers, few nicks, and scars, with jagged and broken fingers nails. He knew that she had a habit of gnawing on them when she was deep in thought. They were strong like a warrior’s should be, but they had a delicacy to them to help soothe away his nightmares. “They rushed me, aiming for the children. All I could think about was protecting them. Thomas was the one who did this.” He used the pad of her finger to trace the scar above his lip. “I begged him to stop, to try to get them to see what they were doing was wrong. I still see Thomas’s blood on my sword when I look at it.”

Lizabeth was just starting to truly understand just how fractured a man Cullen was. And that was just one night in Kirkwall. She knew something terrible happened to him in Ferelden’s circle by the way he deflected her questions about his time there. “Did you get them to the dock?”

“Their mother was waiting for them. She refused to leave until she knew. They got separated when trying to flee their hovel. She kissed me,” Cullen found he could chuckle about it now. “When she pulled away there was blood and I panicked. That’s when I realized how close Thomas came to splitting my face in two.”

“Thank the Maker he didn’t.” Lizabeth was trying to lighten the mood, “I wholeheartedly believe your ruggedly handsome looks is why we have an increase of women recruits.”

Cullen scuffed, “I think it’s so they can get a look at our half-naked Qunari.”

She caressed his cool cheek. The crisp night breeze was beginning to grow colder as the night went on. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

He placed a kiss on each of her fingertips of the hand he held, “Far worse things have happened to me.”

Lizabeth didn’t press the matter though he had opened the door for her. She knew and understood that some demons were hard to talk about. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

“It’s nice to have a purpose again. One that I believe in.” The Templars had left him jaded in the belief department. Since he was thirteen, the order had been his life. Everything he had to give, he gave to them and they took it only to destroy him. He vowed never to give that much of himself to another cause or organization ever again. But the inquisition had proven to be different. They were righting the wrongs of the Templars and the Chantry caused. “It’s also nice to have someone to care for again.”

“Was there someone before?” There was no animosity in her voice or delusory. She was just genuinely curious. He told her that there had been no one in Kirkwall. Ferelden seemed to be a different matter. Was it someone from the circle?”

“A mage.” HE spoke with a great fondness. “The Templar had strict rules to separate us. It was ridiculous of course. They can’t expect to lock us together and think we wouldn’t interact. We were each other’s only company. There were little visitors from outside the circles. I found myself befriending a few mages.”

Yet, he had such strong feelings against them. Lizabeth wondered what had changed from then to now. She was wise to no ask and let him continue.

“Solona Amell, she was, different. I tried to keep my distance, even chanted out with another guard to make sure I had little contact with her. It was harder than I thought. I was tasked to execute any mage that didn’t pass their Harrowing.” A task he never imagines he would do when he joined the Templars. “I had to oversee Solona’s and I got sick right before at the idea that I would have to kill her.”

“Did you ever tell her how you felt?”

A blush crossed his face, “No. I told myself that it was just an infatuation and it would pass. I think I was protecting myself in case she failed. If I admitted that it was deeper, I wouldn’t be able to do my duty.”

“She passed did she not?”

“She did, but then the tower was taken over my Uldred.” Emotions clogged his throat at the memory. The horrors he endured at the hands of that man and his followers had left plenty of scars. Both physically and mentally. The later ones were the hardest to carry. “The hero of Ferelden came to purge the door of its abomination and take out Uldred. Not all mages had fallen under possession, but I still asked her to kill them all. They had to be punished for what they did. Kahlan didn’t agree and she spared those she could, including Solona. I just couldn’t look at her without resentment despite that I did feel something for her. They weren’t strong enough to overcome that.”

“What happened to her?”

They disbanded the circle and I think she went to find her family. Hawke is related to her. I was informed that Solona didn’t have much of a family. Her parents shipped her off to the circle to hide the fact their daughter was a mage.” Cullen thought for a moment, “I saw her briefly in Kirkwall, but I don’t know what happened to her once the rebellion started.”

“You should ask Hawke. He might have a way to contact her.”

Cullen was amazed by Lizabeth’s acceptance of his need to know what happened to the mage. “Was there anyone for you back home?”

Laughing, Lizabeth settled on her back again. “Plenty of suitors that my parents picked for me in hope to tame me.”

“That clearly didn’t work very well.” She whacked him in the chest and he grinned. Lizabeth wasn’t the kind of woman who didn’t react well to being told what to do. There had been plenty of instances of butting heads while at the war table with one of them. Cullen liked the fact that she didn’t back down from what she believed.

“Well most me couldn’t stand to look at my face so eventually I was sent to live with my aunt on the outskirts of town.” Lizabeth hadn’t meant to say that. Her scars were a sore subject for her. No one in the inquisition knew how she acquired them, though they had wanted from time to time when they looked at her. She wanted it to stay that way because there was no way that any of them could look at her in the same way if they knew the truth. Now, since Sullen had opened up to her, Lizabeth felt brave enough to do the same. “You never ask about them.”

Cullen’s brow furrowed, “about what?”

“The scars.”

Cullen shrugged, “it’s none of my business. Even now that we’ve grown close it still isn’t/ If you wanted to tell me I figured you would. They don’t make you any less beautiful to me.”

Tears started to burn in the back of her throat. The only other person to have called her beautiful since she acquired them was Graydon. Their parents had no problem telling her she looked no better than an abomination. “Truly?”

Cullen propped himself on his elbow so he could stare at her. The inquisitor’s eyes were closed and her brow was scrunched like she was fighting the urge to cry. He caressed her face, “Make yes. The first time I laid my eyes on you it felt like someone bashed a shield against my head. Every time you walk into the war room it’s like a ray of light breaking through the storm clouds after weeks of rain.” Words weren’t his strong suit that was something he left for Varric. Lovingly, he brushed his lips over each scar the branded her face. He tasted the salty tears when he reached the raised skin just below her left eye. “I know they carry bad memories for you, Liz, but I promise you that nothing you can say will change that.”

“I want to believe you, Cullen. I really do.” She pushed herself into a sitting position and pulled her left tightly against her chest.

“I was torture for weeks at the circle.” Cullen softly confessed, “I was forced to watch as my friends died while demons ripped them to shreds. They got in my mind, made me see things, twisting reality with the illusion that I didn’t know what was real. He played on my every fear, made me experience them over and over again. I wanted to die, but he found it to pleasurable to break me. He would bring me to the brink of death only to heal me so he could do it all over again.” He shot on his feet to pace, trying to escape the horrible images in his head. “I killed my family. My sister, Maker, I tore her to shred.”

“You didn’t do that.” Lizabeth couldn’t imagine the anguish he must carry having that false memory with him. “They’re safe.”

“In the end, he broke me.” He had hoped over time what he endured would fade, but time only made it worse. Every night the memories followed him into the fade. The only thing that seemed to quite them was Lizabeth. “How can I ever be the same after that?”

Lizabeth fixated her gaze on the commander’s back, recalling the scars that branded his flesh. She had assumed that he had sustained the injuries in battle. Now she thought of those thin white lines had been made by some type of whip. She found that she wished she could Uldred herself. Forcing him to watch the death of his fellow Templars and make him think that he slaughtered his family had to be Cullen’s own personal hell. The fact that he wasn’t broken beyond repair amazed her.

“I was fifteen.” A lump formed in her throat. Run! It took all of her willpower not to bolt to the safety of her chambers. No, she had to do this. If Cullen could face his demons then so could she. Andraste guide her, she trudged forward. “My brother and I were outside the city picking herbs and berries. My father was supposed to accompany us and as usual, he had other commitments that needed his attention first. Mother wasn’t there to stop us and Fredrick really wanted to make a pie. He was always ignored as the youngest. I made a point to go out of my way when he wanted to do something.”

The hitch in her voice caused Cullen to turn in her direction. She looked so small sitting in the middle of the blanket hugging her knees with her gaze fixated on some random spot in front of her. “I didn’t know you had a younger brother.”

“Don’t anymore. I didn’t realize how far away from the watchtowers we had wondered. Fredrick saw a rabbit and chased after it. I was terrified that he would trip and hurt himself so I dashed after him, losing sight of the towers. “ Ice filled her veins leaving her trembling with the same fear she felt that day. “Three bandits caught site of us and they were heavily armed. It all happened so fast. I told Fredrick to run and I threw myself at them in hopes to slow them down. Grayson had trained me in hand to hand combat, but it was useless against three grown men.”

Cullen watched her lift a finger to the long scar on her cheek. So he had been right, a blade had made that mark. His mind was filled with despair at what she was going to say next. No matter what he would listen just as she did. “Here.” Careful not to touch her any more than he had to, Cullen knelt to wrap the blanket around the rouge’s shoulder.

She pulled the blanket closed as tight as she could. It offered no comfort or protection as the memory took her over.

_“You stupid bitch!” The bandit was the beard swiped a hand under his nose, pulled away, and cursed at the blood. “You broke my damn nose!”_

_Lizabeth jetted her bin out, “I’ll break than that.” He acted so fast that there had been no time to prepare. With an animalist growl, the bandit charged forward using his free hand to grasp her by the neck and lifted to gather momentum so when her back hit the ground she saw stars. Air. It left her body with a woosh. Now the man was squeezing her throat so tightly that it couldn’t be replenished. She clawed at the hand, desperate to get free._

_The bandit pinned her to the earth with the weight of his body. “Stop struggling.”_

_Lizabeth had no intention of doing that. The other two men had disappeared into the woods and if she could just find the right opportunity she knew that she could take him down. The rocks were cutting through the material of her dress, tearing into her flesh and the scent of rust mixed with the spilled berries filled her senses. Blood, his or hers, was going to be the last thing she remembered before going into the Fade. She tried to slip her hand for the dagger on her belt, but the man’s weight had her pinned down so tightly it was a useless endeavor. Make, she prayed as the world began to go black, protect Fredrick._

_“I got the boy.”_

_Somehow, the announcement was able to get through the roaring in her eyes. No! The grip on her neck loosened and she took in a wheezing breath. Then with all her might, she whipped her head forward, slamming her forehead against his mouth. The blow dazed the bandit allowing her to free herself. She stumbled onto her trembling legs and ran straight into a wall of flesh. Once again a hand was wrapped around her neck. She couldn’t hold back the whimper of pain. “Fredrick.”_

_The boy of eight winters looked frightened out of his mind. The third bandit held him by his unruly raven colored hair while a blade was resting at his small throat. Fredrick locked his gaze on his sister’s face, pleading with her to help._

_“Holt get off your ass and find something to behind her with.” The man holding Lizabeth instructed before studying her. “She looks like a noble. I wonder what kind of price we can fetch for her.”_

_“Please.” Lizabeth gripped the man’s wrist. “I have money on my belt. Take it and let us go.”_

_The man looked down with great interest and Lizabeth knew the lust in his eyes had nothing to do with money. She felt the unmistakable coolness of the steel of a blade as it cut through her clothes and sliding it into her tender flesh. He had cut the belt from her body, purposely taking a few of the ties that held her dress together with it. His head tilted. “Pouch seems a bit light.”_

_The man called Holt with a broken nose and a busted lip picked the coin pouch off the ground. HE rummaged around. “You’re right Ty. There are barley 10 silvers in here.”_

_“I think we are going to need a better payment than that.” Ty spun, twisting Lizabeth’s arms behind his back with one hand while the other remained at her throat. “You busted my friend’s nose. You’re going to have to apologize to him.”_

_Lizabeth’s stomach filled with dread. She knew if she didn’t do what they wanted they would hurt Fredrick. Ty slammed his leg into the back of her knees sending her pitching forward with no way to brace her fall. Blood exploded in her mouth as she hit face first. “Please.” That’s right Lizabeth ask the bad men nicely to go away. Begging would get her nowhere yet she could stop the plea in her voice as she spoke. “Let my brother go. I promise I won’t try to run or anything. Just let him go.”_

_Ty was bent down to keep her pinned down, his hot breath falling over her cheek. “I’m going to take this as a learning opportunity to show him what to do with women wandering in the woods.”_

_He started tearing at her dress, or what was left of it at this point. Even though Fredrick’s life was at stake, she couldn’t sit idly by. She bucked, kicked, and twisted to shake Ty’s vise like grip on her arms. She made a few solid connections, but nothing phased him. He flipped her easily as if she was a rag doll, her dress falling open exposing her pale body to him. His eyes flared and Lizabeth felt like she was going to get sick. There was no way she could out muscle them, so she did the only thing she could. She opened her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs. The sound along rang into the air for a second or two before Holt shoved the now empty coin pouch into her mouth, gagging her. Growling, Ty fisted his hand in the long strands of her hair and yanked her head back to expose her throat. He surprised her by pressing the blade of his dagger to her cheek. She cried out at the stinging of her flesh being sliced open. Blood started to flow like a river down her neck. She should have stopped. Should have just given in. She couldn’t. She was a fighter._

_She tried to slam her head forward as she had done with Holt, but Ty dodged and reward her by slamming the hilt of his blade against her forehead; splitting it open. The blow had her blacking out for a second before Ty’s face came back into focus. Her hands were free now and she started to claw at the man’s flesh, searing it with her nails. In the end, her struggles got her nowhere. Her hands were now bound above her head, the leather bounds burning into her wrist as she twisted. Her face burned and blood dripped from the multiple gashes she received from the blade, filling her nose and mouth. She gagged and felt a strange sense of relief at the prospect of choking to death on her own blood._

_“Look at what you made me do!” Angry, Ty grabbed Lizabeth’s chin and forced her head to the side to clear her airways. “Peter.”_

_Lizabeth’s gaze shot to where her brother was standing. The bandit name Peter grinned as he ran the blade over Fredrick’s throat. The boy’s scream mixed with her cry of horror. “No!” But it was too late. She could do nothing but watch his lifeless body fall to a heap on the cold ground amongst the berries that he so desperately wanted for a pie. At that moment, looking at the blood pool from Fredrick’s slit throat, she went still. Her mind just shut down. She no longer cared about getting free or even living. Her brother was dead. She had killed him. Nothing these men could do to her mattered. Hands groped at her breast, twisting to the point of pain that should make her cry out. She didn’t. She was so numb. She felt the sharp pain of Ty forcing himself into her body. She felt the tearing of her insides and the immediate rush of blood as he forcibly took her womanhood. All her mind could focus on was the ratchet smell of Ty’s breath, the scent of blood, and the man’s grunt as he took pleasure in defiling her._

“Lizabeth!”

Cullen’s shout knocked her from the memory. She inhaled a sharp breath through her nose, pulling in the scent of cedar mixed in a hint of warm spice and amber musk. Cullen. The scent was Cullen. She breathed in again letting the mixture drive away the horrible memory and back to the present. The commander was looking at her with a worried expression. Dimly, she wondered how long she had been calling her name. “Cullen?”

“Yes.” He wanted to touch her but didn’t know what kind of reaction that might invoke. He hurriedly took off his jacket and tossed it over her shoulder. She was trembling so violently he could hear her teeth rattling. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Safe. She breathed in the man’s scent again. She was safe and with Cullen. They couldn’t touch her. “I’m sorry.” Lizabeth didn’t realize she was crying until she swiped her hand over her scarred cheek.

“Don’t.” Cullen caught her hand trying not to be offended when she jolted. In all the time he had known Lizabeth and all that she had gone through, he had never once seen her shed a single tear. It was ripping his guts out. “Don’t hide them.”

“They’re a weakness.” Lizabeth was furious at herself for letting him see them. “They make me helpless. I told myself I would never be that again.”

“Then make it a strength.” He brushed a teardrop away with his thumb. “Tears show that we are human.”

“They don’t deserve them.” Make knew she had given them enough already.

“I agree with that.” After a moment of hesitation, he gathered her trembling form in his arms. There were no comforting words he could think of that would fit adequately in this situation. Plus he was sure that she didn’t want to hear them. So he simply held her while a storm of pure rage brewed inside him.

The silence was deafening.

“What happened to them?”

Lizabeth turned her head to rest her cheek against his beating heart. He hadn’t run away. He wasn’t afraid to touch her. This time the tears that were building were ones of joy. “I killed the one that killed Fredrick,” Lizabeth confessed without flinching. That was the only life she wasn’t sorry for taking. If anything, she was sorry that death had come too quickly. “The other two fled before his body hit the ground. Graydon found out that Holt was killed during the blight.”

“The other?”

“We’ve only been able to track him to somewhere in the Hinterlands.” Her obsession in trying to find the man had consumed her life for a good ten years before she realized that hanging onto it gave the bastard power over her. Of course, that took a lot of soul searching and alcohol to realize that. She had given the bandit enough of her life. He didn’t deserve another moment of it. Graydon on the other hand never reached that conclusion. Even now, after nearly fifteen years, he searched. Not finding them was something she knew haunted her brother every day. “But that was a few years ago so there is no telling where he is now. I try not to think too much about it.”

Cullen tried to keep the rage from his voice. “It still troubles you that he’s alive.”

“Yes.” Even though she had spent most of her time telling herself it didn’t matter, deep down a part of her was. “But with demons falling out of the sky, I think we have bigger things to concern ourselves with.”

He gently grasped her chin to lift her gaze to his. “You amaze me, you know that?”

“Amaze?” How as that possible? Why wasn’t he looking at her like she was dirty? “How in Thedas do I amaze you?”

“Because they didn’t destroy you.”

“I would beg to differ on that one.”

“They didn’t break you completely,” Cullen finished. Oh, how he wished he had Varric’s gift with words. He wanted the right ones to tell her how inspired he was by the woman she was today. That she hadn’t lost her faith in humanity even though she had every right to. “You still see the good in the world and want to help shape it for the better. You could have let your experience beat you down until there was nothing left of you but a shell. You didn’t. You picked up the pieces and became stronger. You still find joy even there isn’t any, you have compassion for those who don’t deserve it, and so much that you could have let them take away.”

He rambled on as he did from time to time when he struggled to explain his thoughts. Lizabeth let him go until he had gotten it all out. “That’s not the reaction I was expecting.”

“I love you.” He spoke with every emotion filling his heart. Cullen knew without a doubt that this was the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with. This woman was his life and he would do anything within his power to protect her. “I love you Lizabeth and nothing in this world will ever change that.”

“Cullen.” She pressed her face into his throat, “I love you too.”


End file.
